Mess With the Bull
by Becca2793
Summary: Dangerously high stakes are the sophisticated Allen Walker's game. And Kanda Yu can't decide if it's that danger that's making his blood pump or something else entirely.
1. Chapter 1

**One word. Street racing. I regret nothing. **

**Enjoy. :)**

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><p>Chapter One<p>

It is the low rumble of Latino music growing much louder that coaxes him out of his reverie. Something powerful and filled with so much bass his chest seems to vibrate with each beat; when he looks up, the objects in his rearview shake as well.

He runs his palm over the leather gear shift and purses his lips. The sharp scent of oil and nitrous is almost palpable in the air, making him a bit heady and more than edgy; if they could only get this over and done with so that he could get his money and leave.

Sighing harshly, he unfolds himself from the front seat of his 1968 Camaro and almost flinches when the Trans Am's hood next to him slams shut. Red, with midnight black decals, the Trans Am is known for its driver's insane antics; it sports dozens upon dozens of scratches and bumps Lavi Bookman refuses to buff out.

"So Yu," Lavi smirks, leaning against the passenger door of his vehicle. "Ya hear? Komui said there may be a new driver showing up. Some kid."

Kanda snorts and crosses his arms, shuts his open door much more carefully than Lavi shut his hood. The smell is even worse than inside the car, and he has half a mind to just drive off and forget the race completely. He can't do that though; the pounding in the chest is more than just music – there's a premature rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He hears the familiar roar of an engine as Lenalee Lee pulls up in her dahlia colored Shelby Mustang; there is the unmistakable sound of Chinese R&B pouring from the open windows and mixing into the night air. The vehicle shuts off and she steps out, running a manicured hand through dark green locks of hair. Lavi lets out a sharp whistle, and Kanda glares at him as harshly as he can.

It's quite obvious Lenalee is off limits, as stated by her brother - the man who runs these operations. It isn't that Kanda is scared of him (such a thing would be ridiculous) but he isn't going to deny the man has all the pull needed to keep him out of the races. Besides, he wouldn't try anything with that girl anyway.

She saunters towards them, one long, leather clad leg in front of the other. How she doesn't trip in those heeled boots on this rough gravel is fucking beyond him.

"Hey you two," she smiles, leaning against Lavi's Trans Am. "Ready?"

What a stupid question.

"Of course," Kanda answers gruffly, scoffing. He pushes off his vehicle and walks off then, leaving the two to talk about whatever they want. The mass of people surrounding the vehicles parts as he walks through, but there's so many people they can't part to where he's not running into them left and right. He grunts as he stumbles past a quivering brunette. She looks totally uncomfortable with her current setting.

He fills a red, plastic cup with alcohol from a keg and frowns at the people at the race tonight. Collectively, they seem like idiots with no capacity for understanding the first thing about street racing. They're all dancing, gyrating, mindless morons who just need an excuse to get out of their own, horrible lives for the night. By him, someone describes the worst crash they'd experienced. Pussies.

He crushes his half-drunk cup, not caring a bit at how it spill through the cracks, and tosses it at a dumpster off to the side. He doesn't need to be drinking too much, just enough to deal with Lavi and his stupidity for the night. He checks his watch; it's five minutes to eleven. Fucking new kid had better be here on time or they're going to start without him.

He runs his hand under his hair, pulling the few strands that have gotten caught in the crease between his neck and his jacket out.

The race doesn't start until eleven-fifteen, but they're going to be placing their bets in five so he makes his way back to the vehicles, shoving through the drunk, horribly smelling crowd. There's a hand that yanks at the chain on his jeans, but he pushes away so harshly he imagines they'll wake up with bruised fingers.

Lenalee and Lavi are still leaned against his car, talking, and Komui is off to the side, eyeing them suspiciously. When Kanda walks up, he starts, and gathers them to the front line.

"Our final racer said he was going to be a bit late. I've agreed to postpone the race until eleven-thirty instead of fifteen – I owe his teacher a favor or two."

Upon saying this, however, there is a grumble of a well-made engine and a pure white Lamborghini pulls up. The car is silent save that, and the driver's side door opens up and shuts down soundlessly as the new driver steps up to them.

He's definitely as Lavi described him – a kid. Short, with strangely died platinum white hair, a strange red tattoo, and silver-blue eyes; with alabaster skin and pants so tight he probably has restricted breathing. He straightens his leather jacket and smiles at them all pointedly – Kanda is sure those silver eyes linger on him for a moment too long – and turns to Komui.

"My apologies," he says, British accent thick. "It appears I made you postpone the race without considering the lack of traffic cams in this surrounding area."

He fiddles with the sleeves of his jacket before turning to the person nearest him, Lavi, and extending his hand. Lavi takes it, laughing and shaking his hand before saying, "Lavi."

The kid nods and says, "Allen Walker."

He can't decide how he feels about his 'Allen Walker' kid. His first impression is something like patronization and condescension, but then, when those intense eyes hit his, his thoughts scatter completely. There's a pang of lust in his abdomen and he frowns intensely.

The short boy turns to him, then, and holds out his hand. "Allen Walker," he smiles, sultry. Kanda scoffs at him and bats his hand away.

"That's Yu. He's still figuring out the whole 'manners' thing." Lavi laughs, and Kanda lets out a snarl.

"Call him Kanda," Lenalee laughs.

"Alright, alright," Komui chuckles. "Now that the introductions are done. Stakes start at five grand."

"Let's raise it to ten," Lavi smirks, leaning forward.

Lenalee shrugs and flips her hair over her shoulder. "No problem for me. Kanda?"

She looks at him and he snorts, "Of course not."

Allen laughs, boisterously. "Oh, you lot. Ten grand? How's this – I raise it to thirty. And we play for pinks."

"Pink slips?" Lavi asks. "Are you crazy?"

"Of course not," Allen returns, mock offense evident on his face. "But I appreciate a good bet with high stakes. If you're too uncomfortable with that, you can fold while you're ahead."

Without a word, Kanda bends into his car and gets the title from the glove box, hands it to Komui. Hesitantly, Lenalee and Lavi to the same, while the short one just reaches into his back pocket and pulls his out. His vehicle is a Lamborghini Murciélago, no doubt the most expensive of the cars, meaning he has the most to lose. Maybe the kid understands something about risks, about barriers.

"Let's get this started then. The strip is five miles long – we aren't taking it straight through the city this time for safety reasons; the highway out is blocked off so no pedestrians can interfere. Good luck." Komui smiles amiably and Kanda rolls his eyes, sighing, climbs into his Camaro. Down at the end, Walker's white scissor door slides down and shuts silently. The music, still loud, becomes pure background noise, more felt than heard as he starts his vehicle. The rev of the engine is a low purr, soft but powerful – the muscle in the car is evident.

Running his long fingers over the leather cover on the wheel, he lets his lips turn up into a smirk and he looks to his side; he can see Lavi grinning wildly, hears as he presses down on the accelerator to make his Trans Am growl playfully and burnout. He understands the practical aspect of it, to improve traction, but he'd still never do such a thing to Mugen's tires.

A barely dressed Cloud Nine walks out in front of the cars, anger and aggravation evident on her face. She pressed a whistle to her lips, raises her right hand and counts down from three on them. Three. Two. One.

The whistle blows, barely heard over the cars and the music.

Instantly, the world melts away into the screech of tires on pavement and the rock music that pours from his speakers – reverberating in his chest and limbs. Slowly, but surely, he presses his foot further down on the accelerator, revels in the feeling as Mugen moves forward faster and faster, veering in front of Lavi's Trans Am. He shifts into third gear, letting his eyes flick down to catch the speedometer as he slowly wavers over the sixty miles an hour mark and then continues to creep past it. A soft laugh escapes his lips as he turns the radio up, but fades quickly as the white Lamborghini storms past him – easily going ninety.

Snarling, he shifts again, speeding up, tires smooth against the concrete. The highway has been blocked off specifically for this event, so he has no issue with pushing Mugen as fast as he'll go. He watches as he hits eighty, eighty-five, ninety – the white car is still ahead of him though.

Letting out a sound of indignation and anger, he reaches down, notices belatedly that Lenalee's Mustang is ripping forward – then Lavi and – fuck.

He grabs the notch, presses down on the button harshly, listens as the nitrous kicks into gear and propels the car forward. The force presses him back into the seat a little, but he smirks as he passes all three of them easily – watches as the needle passes one-twenty. Fuck this is exhilarating. Faster. He has to go faster. Break whatever barriers are there – to bypass and overcome them. Blood pumps through him - he can _feel_ it pulsing through his veins.

Then, eyes still on the road, he licks his lips and recognizes Komui is either a fucking idiot or a fucking liar. Cursing, he shifts down into second, tires screeching as he realizes he isn't going to make that with a simple turn of the wheel.

"Fuck, fuck – fuck."

Pressing down on the clutch, he slams down on the break, lets the side of his foot press down on the acceleration. It kind of hurts with the amount of force he's using, but he doesn't care about that in the slightest. He downshifts quickly, then lets off the clutch and flicks the steering wheel to the left, feeling his car lurch away from its center and towards the inside. It's a kind of liberating feeling – like his body is weightless and he has no control of it. It'll just go where the car wants it to go, nowhere else.

Growling, he grips the steering wheel as harshly as he can to keep that under his control at least. It'd be too easy for his hands to slip and for him to run off the highway and go up in flames and smoke. The tail end of Mugen sweeps back and forth a few times before equaling out and he continues speeding down the dragway. Komui probably did that to catch them off guard. Fucker.

He relaxes a bit in his seat, enjoying the feeling of fear and adrenaline pumping through him. It's short lived, however, like most of his pleasures in this race, dude to that _goddamn_ Lamborghini. It whizzes past him with ease and he barks a curse at that _Allen Walker_ before screaming, "Fuck it!" and pushing down all the way on the accelerator. The car lurches a bit as he shifts up and he looks down to realize he's going one-fifty. He doesn't usually go so fast, but this kid is making him and he doesn't like that at all – being made to do something.

He's going to win. Win the ninety grand and three new cars. Oh, that kid never should've suggested pinks.

And if he wasn't so fucking pretty, he'd punch him in the face afterwards for good measure.

When he's nose and nose with the short kid's car, he smirks. He's topping one-sixty, he perhaps feels the front of his car lifting ever so slightly from the wind resistance piling up underneath the vehicle, but he doesn't stop. He keeps going, lets out a bark of a laugh as Walker looks over at him, smiling brightly. That kid is so going down.

Lenalee and Lavi are there, trying and failing to pass the either of them, but he doesn't even register them. Half the time his eyes and mind are on the road, and the other half they're spent on the white haired kid laughing his ass off and looking like he's having the time of his life.

They hit the three mile mark and Kanda purses his lips, more to keep from smiling than agitation. That Lamborghini will look just fine in his driveway.

Then he feels something hit the side of his car. Appalled, he looks over at Walker to find him smiling innocently, staring at the road again. He definitely felt something hit his goddamn car though. Then the boy looks over at him, smiling with closed eyes, and turns his wheel towards Kanda sharply.

"Fuck!"

Growling, he flicks his wheel away, successfully running off the road. In the grass he's slower and he's left an opening for one of the other two. Hell if that's happening.

Downshifting, he speeds up, tires ripping up grass from beneath him as he tears back onto the highway. He hears concrete scrape the undercarriage of his car and he curses harshly before shifting again and speeding up. He's behind the other three now, but that's going to change. That Walker wants to play dirty and cheat? He wants to fuck with his Mugen? That white Lamborghini is going down. Fuck having something nice and clean and white sitting in his driveway – he's gonna mangle the thing and put it on display for the world to see.

Apologizing to Mugen, he gets just behind the Trans Am; when he's about three inches forward, front bumper only just next to the Trans Am's rear bumper, he jerks his wheel, narrowly avoids the now spinning car.

As it's spinning, it knocks the Lamborghini and the Mustang from the roadway and Kanda maneuvers around Lavi to get in front of them all. Hopefully none of them die from this; he isn't going back to jail for a couple of idiots.

He slows down just a little when he's a quarter mile further. He's definitely going to bring Mugen into the shop when all this is over.

When he's a mile from the finish line, Walker and the other two catch up with him. The pink Mustang rides dangerously close to his side as Lenalee creeps up. Sniffing in disdain, he downshifts and speeds up again, veers in front of her to keep her from passing him again. Then the Lamborghini uses the newly open lane to growl playfully and crawl through. When their bumpers are level with each other, the white haired kid looks over at him, all bedroom eyes and a sultry smile. Kanda scowls and swallows the agitation and lust in lieu of focusing on the road in front of him.

Then suddenly, Walker waves at him and jolts forward. Nitrous.

Snarling, he registers he has just enough for one more shot of his own nitrous and hits it as well. He presses back further into the seat than the first time, watching the needle on the speedometer reach one-eighty, one eighty-five. Walker is still in front of him though, and there's only half a mile left. He lets out an agitated noise and slams down on the accelerator. One-ninety. One ninety-two. One ninety-five. One ninety-seven. One ninety-nine.

Two hundred.

He zips forward, bumper and bumper with Allen Walker once more. Mugen is shaking, rising from the air resistance. If this keeps up too much longer he'll flip backwards, but he has to win. Frowning deeply, he doesn't spare the kid a glance as he hits the final quarter of a mile. Then they're a thousand feet from the finish line. Seven hundred. Five hundred. His world is just this. Three hundred. Two hundred. Nothing else matters.

One hundred.

The finish line.

With a force he doesn't like to admit, he hits his head on the steering wheel while stomping on the brake pedal and turning the wheel so he doesn't run into anything. The car skids, toppling dangerously close to falling on its side and the protesting of the tires isn't lost on Kanda. When he's finally still, he lets out a heavy breath and rests his aching head on the back of his seat.

He lies there for a minute until he hears a knock on his window. Opening one eye, he looks to it: Lavi.

Groaning, he rolls down the window and growls out a, "What?"

"Photo finish," Lavi answers morosely. "The kid beat you by about six inches."

Something inside Kanda snaps and he punches the steering wheel harshly. A pain shoots up his arm, but he doesn't care. "Fuck that," He snarls, grabbing something under the seat and opening the door, pushing Lavi out the way. Pointedly, he stomps up to Walker, presses the blade to his chest. "You cheated."

The short kid looks down at his sword, then smiles up at him. "So did you."

"You cheated _first_."

"Kanda, right?" Allen pushes on the blade with a force Kanda never could have pegged on something small like him. "Tell ya what. You go out to drinks with me, and I'll let you keep your car. That's what's got you angry, right? You don't care about the money."

Kanda snorts at him. "Are you even old enough to drink?"

"Firstly, I obviously don't concern myself with legalities; secondly, I'm twenty-two, so yes, actually."

Kanda eyes him, warily, then just lets his sword hang at his side. "Fine. Your treat."

"Of course," the kid smirks. "Now put up your weapon, I don't think that'll be accepted where we're going." Making a noise, Kanda puts his sword back under the driver's seat and locks his car. "And we're taking my car as well? That's alright, I suppose." After Kanda climbs into the passenger seat, Walker gives him a look. "You aren't going to tell your friends where you're going?"

"Friends?" Kanda sneers. "They can go fuck themselves."

"Okay then," the kid laughs, walking around the front end and folding into the driver's seat. Kanda pulls down the passenger door, the smooth mechanic motion pleasing him. When the short-stack turns on the car, no music comes from the speakers. Pure silence fills the cabin of the car, reverberating off the leather and black interior. The engine turns over, purring, and they pull away from the crowd. "You aren't scared someone's going to take your car?"

"Komui'll take it back to the garage."

"Well that's nice of him."

"Whatever."

"Not very talkative, are you?"

"Was that a stipulation of this? I'm only here so I can keep my car."

"Really, now?"

Allen Walker shoots him a glance and Kanda sneers. Well of course. What other reason would he have for being here? He isn't going to deny that the kid would be a nice fuck for a one night stand, but really, he's kind of annoying. He doesn't know if that'd even be worth it. Looking at the small from out the corner of his eyes, he shrugs internally. No, he'd still fuck him, but he'd have to make sure he kept his mouth shut. Duct tape or a gag perhaps.

He doesn't usually think like this, but there's something about the kid; a primal and primitive aura surrounds him. He just has that – that presence. It's all sex and feigned innocence. And something about that is so intoxicating.

They drive through Los Angeles with the windows down, letting the warm night air press upon their faces. Kanda's hair and bangs whip around him and he frowns a bit at that, but he feels good so he doesn't roll the window up.

They're silent the entire way to wherever the kid is bringing him. When they pull up to a nightclub, the words '_Rhapsody'_ displayed in bright neon, Kanda groans. Clubs aren't really his thing. He prefers normal bars.

Nonetheless, he climbs out the vehicle, watching as the kid throws his keys to a tall, busty woman. She nods at him and pockets them, keeps her golden eyes on the sleek, white Lamborghini.

Kanda follows Walker as he enters the club, easily bypassing the bouncer and leading him to the bar. Propping himself up on a stool, he looks at Kanda with questioning eyes and he responds with, "Black Velvet." The kid gives him a smile he'd never outwardly admit as stunning and turns to the bartender, a suave looking Portuguese man with black, slicked back hair and a mole under his left eye.

For himself, Walker orders a, "Dirty Martini," and leans on the bar slightly, looks at Kanda with what he can only classify as some subtle type of bedroom eyes.

"Are you trying to be indiscreet?" Kanda asks, ticking an eyebrow up in slight agitation.

"Not really," the kids replies, smiling. "I am trying to be successful though, so let me know how that works out."

"You'll know," Kanda replies easily, taking his drink from the bartender and sipping it. He lets his eyes wander over the crowd, realizes they're no better than the crowd at the pass. He doesn't care about them. And they don't care about him. It's a wonderful relationship, really, one where he doesn't have to wonder about a single thing or care about if they have any issues or problems – why they're here instead of sleeping for work the next day.

"So, Kanda. What got you into cars?"

Kanda looks back over at Walker and raises an eyebrow at him. "I've always liked them," he answers simply. "Ever since I was nine."

"Nine, huh?" he asks, sipping at his martini. He probably thinks he looks sophisticated or some shit.

Kanda rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his drink. The kid's boring him. The club, with this horrible music and these horrible people are not what he wants. And if the kid can't see that, oh well.

But that's when Walker sets his martini down on the bar and leans in a bit. "You don't seem like the type to dance – maybe this was a bad idea. Wanna leave?"

Kanda narrows his eyes at him. "Of course I fucking do."

The kid smiles. "Alright then, let's leave." He downs the rest of his martini, lets Kanda finish his drink, then waves goodbye to the bartender before the two of them walk out. The Lamborghini is exactly where he left it, and the woman is still just watching it. She hands Walker the keys and he climbs into the driver's seat, waiting as Kanda slides in next to him. "Where do you want to go?"

Kanda lets out a harsh sigh. "I don't want to go anywhere. I just want my car."

Walker laughs, loudly and boisterously. "Okay, okay. Well, we had our drinks. Why don't we just do one more thing?"

Kanda rolls his eyes. "Right. And what do you suggest, short-stack?"

The white-haired boy raises an eyebrow at him, grimacing for a moment. Then he says, "Tell you what. I'll give you your car in exchange for a kiss."

"A kiss?" Kanda scoffs. Walker turns on the radio, low and leans back in his seat, looks at Kanda. He mulls it over for a second. It sounds ideal, to be honest – getting both his car and a kiss from this strange boy. He wins either way, he guesses. Car dark, he frowns at Walker then says, "Fine."

Because of the streetlamps and the lit dashboard, Kanda watches the kid beam then lean over the middle console and inch closer and closer. When they're an inch apart, his extremely large smile fades and his eyes stare into Kanda's. They're big and silver – almost look like newly melted chrome, burning hot. Then Kanda feels a hand at the back of his neck and he opens his mouth to Walker's.

The instant their lips touch, Kanda feels the passion Walker pours into it. It's not rushed or unbridled. It's slow and sensual, and makes all the blood in his body rush downwards. He's never been kissed in such a way, someone who perhaps isn't rushing it just to get to the sex. That maybe he's being kissed to enjoy being kissed.

He pushes up a bit from the seat to sit straighter and get closer, wraps his arms around Walker's waist and lets his fingers ghost his spine. The smaller boy shivers underneath his touch and smirks a bit into the kiss and Kanda deepens it even more, swiping his tongue between the twenty-two year old's lips. With a slight moan, Walker fights back for dominance but must realize quickly it's pointless and let's Kanda take over. Fingers run through his hair, pulling it out of its ponytail and Kanda lets out a breath as it tugs his scalp slightly.

Growling, he all but drags the kid over to the passenger's seat, sits him in his lap. "So aggressive," Walker smirks as Kanda presses kisses along the side of his neck. He can feel how hard the white-haired boy is against him though, and knows he's just as aroused. He grinds up, the friction delicious against his erection as he bites down on Allen's collarbone. The boy's fingernails rake through his shirt, move up underneath it. He goes back to kissing Walker on the mouth, then, but it doesn't last very long, because then he detaches and moves down Kanda's body, unhooks his belt as he does so.

Kanda's breath catches as soon as he realizes what the boy is doing. There's something so sensual about the kid just going for it and he closes his eyes as the stale air of the car hits his erection. His fingers grip the handle on the door, nails dig into the heel of his palm as Walker's breath hits him.

"Thought…you said just a kiss…" Kanda manages out.

"I can stop if you'd like," Allen chuckles, licking a line from the base of his cock to the tip and blowing on it. Kanda's thighs clench and his spine is bent at an awkward angle as he presses up into Walker's mouth. Stop? Kanda'd probably run him through if he tried to stop at this point. The sharp scent of sex is in the air and they've barely started – it makes Kanda heady and even more roused than he already is.

Lips stretched tightly over Kanda's cock, Walker's eyes closing then peering up at him, the harsh inhalation in and out through his nose – he's never seen anyone so arousing. He grabs a fistful of white hair as the boy bobs his head, shallow at first, but going farther and farther down the length of his dick as the milliseconds wear on. Kanda swallows the building saliva in his mouth and lets out a gust of air as the tip of his cock hits the back of Walker's throat. Hollowed-out cheeks rubbing against the sides, Kanda groans and rests his head back on the seat. This is ridiculous – his head is spinning and he knows that he isn't going to last much longer. Shutting his eyes tightly, he holds onto that burning, growing feeling in his abdomen; doesn't let it go just yet. This has to go on – it can't end.

He just doesn't have that kind of control over his body though, and thrusting his hips up into Walker's mouth, hitting the back of his throat harshly, he comes. He watches the white-haired boy catch the excess that pours from around his lips and Kanda's cock with his hand, laps it up sensually, letting his tongue roll around the creases of his fingers. It's so fucking lewd.

"I can't let that get on the seats – it'd never come out," the kid smirks and Kanda doesn't really have the energy to even roll his eyes.

But now it's obvious the kid has a problem and he doesn't, so what do they do? Allen seems to have the answer in a second, crawling back up into his laps and kissing him again, rubbing his erection against Kanda's stomach and breathing harsh, heavy moans into his neck and mouth. The friction and Walker's ass rubbing against his dick combined make him half hard again, but he focuses on not caring about that, on reaching his hand between them to jerk him off haphazardly as he nibbles on a pale earlobe. He's never known for being a highly generous lover, but he's not going to make the kid sit and drive him home with an erection.

When Walker comes, Kanda gives a disgusted face and wipes his wet and sticky hand on Walker's leather jacket. The white-haired boy doesn't say anything, but shrugs off the jacket with a bit of a huff – it was probably expensive – and climbs back into the driver's seat. Once there, he leans his head against the seat and evens out his breathing before starting the car and pulling out of the jet black parking lot.

To avoid any awkwardness…"Why the hell do you race in a car like this? It's not made for street racing."

"Well, the car I usually race with is in the shop, and I like this one," Allen replies simply. "Am I dropping you off at your house?"

Kanda frowns at him. "Drop me off at the Black Order's garage."

"Ah, that auto mechanic shop in downtown? No problem." The drive to the shop is quiet, much to Kanda's pleasure. He doesn't even know what they'd talk about after…that. Ugh, who just kneels down in a Lamborghini and gives head? It's unconventional at best. Not that he's _really_ complaining – it's just weird. It's close to twelve-thirty at this point and the lights through the city cast patches of white and yellow on them as they drive through – the scent of sex and a bit of sweat still mingling in the airspace of the car. He wrinkles his nose and listens as Walker lets out a breathy laugh. As he pulls into the driveway of the shop he asks, "When can I see you again?"

Kanda furrows his eyebrows at that and frowns. Why would he want to see the short-stack again? "My number's in the phonebook," is all he says before stepping out the car. All he says before unlocking the garage and not giving a single glance backwards at the white, sleek beauty as it backs from the driveway.

* * *

><p>He wakes up the next morning to the sharp sound of sirens. It's not altogether uncommon to hear sirens in Los Angeles, especially where he lives – it's just that they sound so goddamn close. Blearily, he climbs out of bed, peers through the blinds to look at the front yard. Two cop cars are parked there, sirens blasting.<p>

"Shit!"

Quickly, he pulls on a pair of jeans and puts a gray shirt on before stumbling out of his bedroom and through the back, kitchen door. Why are they here? Sprinting across his backyard, he hops the wooden fence with little difficulty, crouches down low as he makes his way across his neighbor's yard and then down the street. After a few minutes he slows down, lets himself catch his breath – until he hears the sirens again and watches the police cars barrel down the street. Cursing, he slips down an alleyway, hides next to a dumpster and watches as the Crown Victoria's pass him up completely.

Letting out a growl, he pulls his cell phone from his pocket – it's the same pair of jeans from last night and he'd kept his phone in them overnight – and dials Lavi's number.

It rings a few times before he hears a breathless Lavi answer, _"Hey, Yu! How's it going?"_

"What the fuck is going on?"

"_That is actually – ah, shit – a great question. Hold on while I jump this ledge. Fuck! Oh okay – um yeah, I'm not sure of what's going on. Someone must have tipped the police off about last night."_

"I get that – who?"

"_Could 'a been anyone, man! I don't know! Oh this better not be any of that Fast and the Furious shit – Allen Walker, Paul Walker. Fuck man, we were so played."_

"It wasn't him," Kanda growls, finally breathing fairly normal. "Have you talked to Lenalee or Komui?"

"_Just got off the phone with our Lenababy. She said we're gonna meet up at the old HQ."_

"Right." With that, he hangs up, shoves the phone in his pocket once more before sprinting down the alleyway and hoping the chain link fence at the end. His feet connect with a metal dumpster on the other side and he growls at the pain in his ankle. He must have twisted it running.

The thing about HQ is that it's a good ten miles away from where he lives. He can't go back to his house to get Mugen because the cops are there, which means he'll have to chance going to the garage and borrowing a car from there. If they're there too, then he'll just have to reform and re-plan again.

When he's within sight of the garage, he notices there are no cars or people around at all. Speed-walking, he breaks through the backdoor and stalks in, wary. Doesn't sound like anyone's here. He'll pay Komui back for the broken glass.

The Civic they'd been working on is sitting dormant, keys on the workbench next to it. Grabbing the remote for the garage, he climbs into the vehicle and starts it before clicking the button and letting the garage raise just enough for him to get through. As soon as he's out, he closes it back and speeds away.

He's careful not to attract attention to himself as he drives. He doesn't go over or under the speed limit, and he stops fully at each stop sign. When he arrives at the old building they used as their last garage, he pulls into the alleyway on the side and looks around before exiting the car. Swiftly, he knocks on the side door. It doesn't open and no one answers so he raps on it more harshly this time, says, "Open the fucking door!"

It opens, slowly, and Lenalee is standing there. She lets out a breath once she sees it's Kanda and pulls him in.

"What took you so long?"

"I had to break into the garage to get the Civic."

"You had to – you broke into the garage?" she asks, incredulous. Then she sighs and shakes her head. "Whatever. Listen, do you have any idea who could have done this?"

"None," Kanda growls back. "And that agitates me. It obviously could have been anybody. There were dozens of people at that pass."

"But that seems so weird to me. Why go to a race and then report it afterwards? Why not just report it right then and there?"

"Nobody said people were _smart_," Kanda retorts, walking past her and into the common area. It's wide open and concrete-floored; the walls are fairly bare save chipping paint and a few vintage posters. They really haven't been here in years.

His footsteps echo as he walks, and he vaguely notes the place smells like old oil and rusted metal. Muttering a curse under his breath, he falls down onto a bench and leans his weight on a large cabinet. Komui and Lavi walk into the open space, then, both looking a little perplexed.

"What took you so long?" Komui asks, wiping his hands on an old rag. He acts as though he's just gotten back from working with a car, though Kanda sees no frames or engines.

"I told your damn sister. The police were surrounding my house and I needed a car to get here. I borrowed the Civic."

"The Civic? Did you break into the garage _again_?"

"The first time doesn't count as breaking in. The door was unlocked."

"But you still broke a window."

"How was I supposed to know you were an idiot who doesn't lock doors? I needed something."

"Brother, Kanda, please. We have bigger things to worry about. Has anyone been in contact with the new boy – Allen Walker, right? Kanda, didn't you go home with him?"

Bewildered at Lenalee's words, he stands and very quickly says, "Of course not! We had drinks; that's _all_."

"Kanda, that's never all it is." Lavi says, slowly and patronizing – like Kanda is a small child who doesn't understand. "He might look like a kid but I saw those eyes. He's an 'I get what I want' kinda guy – and he wanted you."

Groaning, Kanda slaps his hand to his face. "You're an idiot. I didn't go home with him. No, I haven't had any _contact_ with him. Komui, you were at the garage last night when he dropped me off; tell them."

"I remember nothing of the sort," the older man replies, cleaning his glasses. "No, no – maybe I do. Eh…nope."

"You're an asshole. You're _all_ assholes." It's then that his phone rings and he frowns before answering it. "What?" He snaps.

"_Ah, Kanda."_

Speak of the devil.

"What do you want?"

"_You see, I'm in a spot of trouble,"_ Walker starts, breathing heavy for some reason. _"The police have surrounded my home and now I'm on the run. Do you perhaps have a safe house of some sort?"_

Kanda wrinkles his nose in distaste. Then he looks at the others. "If this call is being screened and you're just fucking around, I'm going to kill you," he says, almost calmly and matter-of-factly. "We're at the old Black Order's garage." With that, he ends the call and frowns deeply. "You wanted to know about Walker? The police are on him too."

"I love how much information you gave him. He's totally gonna know where we are with, 'old Black Order's garage.'" Lavi says. "Dude, if you're gonna make him a part 'a this, you've gotta be a little clearer."

"The kid's resourceful. He'll figure it out," Kanda tells him, cleaning off his phone on his jeans. As soon as he's done, he plops back down onto the bench and sighs deeply. Nothing like this has happened before. The police have showed up at the races before, but he's never gotten them at his home. He's had to escape them, but never like that. He doesn't like it one bit – something like this can't settle well with him. It's annoying and suspicious.

The electricity in the building has long been shut off, but due to the early day time, that doesn't matter. Light flitters in through dirty, broken windows and the lighter Lavi continues to play with out of sheer boredom. The only problem he has is that it's hot. He feels the sweat dripping down the middle of his back and it's disgusting. It's always hot in Los Angeles in July, though, that's nothing new. And the garages never have air conditioning – they just have fans in their current one.

As a knock raps on the metal garage door urgently, a rat scurries across the cement ground. In a second, Komui is by the garage door, looking through a small window near the top of it before sighing a bit and opening the garage just enough to reach under and pull the person on the other side of it through. Not wasting any time, he shuts the garage door back and lets his breath even.

"Well, hello there, lot."

Nobody answers him at first, then Lavi smiles broadly and takes his hand from his side. "_Hola_, Allen! You got here fast!"

"I live rather close by," the white-haired boy answers, straightening out his sleeve. "I want to thank you for helping me." He looks at everyone, then pointedly at Kanda. With a demur wave, the kid saunters forward and sits down on the bench next to him.

Kanda offers him a raised eyebrow.

"So, Allen. You don't have any idea who could have done this? Tipped off the police?" Komui wonders aloud, straightening his glasses and leaning against a dirty wall.

Walker shrugs. "None. It all seems very strange to me, to be honest. Things of this nature are generally reported and taken care of at the source. To be followed home…I assume the three of you had the police at your home?"

Lenalee nods. "Yeah. Which means they have our identities as well."

The kid nods a bit, then says, "That can be taken care of. The only thing you will have to worry about is those who already know your faces. One moment." Taking out his cell phone, he stands – walks from the large area to a door on the far right. It's the door that leads out to the register and no one moves to follow him. When he returns a minute or so later, he pockets his phone and smiles. "Don't worry," he tells them. "I've had a good friend send in a false call over the radios. Everything should be all right."

"Wait, wait, wait – _what_? _Just_ like that?" Lavi asks, incredulous. He crosses his arms, as if he doesn't believe a word of it.

"A…family member of mine has connections with the police force. I simply needed a place to rest and call and I got that. So I thank you."

"You're awfully goddamn polite for someone just chased by the cops." Kanda snarls, crossing his arms and talking for the first time since the kid arrived.

"A gentleman is always polite regardless of circumstance," Walker returns. "As obvious with last night?"

Kanda gives him an ugly expression of anger and distaste before standing and walking away towards the side door. "We're done here? I can leave?"

"No, wait – Kanda, we need to figure out who did this."

"Carmen Sandiego. Now leave me alone."

"Well," Lavi says as he's walking out the door. "Where in the world is she?"

* * *

><p><strong>Well, here it is. I'm not sure of whether or not I'll continue this, what with all the other shit I have going on. But if you guys like it, I'll certainly try. Also, can anyone guess what the title means? Or at least what it's playing at?<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Two<p>

He returns to his house, and on Walker's word, there are no cops. However, Mugen isn't there either. Growling a sharp curse, he dials the number that called him earlier – he assumes the kid's cell number – and as soon as he hears it pick up he says, "My fucking car was taken in. You have connects for the goddamn L.A. police impound, too?"

"_I'm sorry,"_ starts a rather suave, accent laden voice. "_Who is this_?" It sounds familiar, but he can't put his finger on it.

Kanda rubs the bridge of his nose and says, "Is there an Allen Walker there?"

"_Ah, you're looking for the boy? No doubt he's off…car shopping."_

Car shopping?

"Whatever then," Kanda snarls.

"_Would you like me to leave him a message?"_

"No."

He hangs up quite unceremoniously and chucks his phone at the ground. They have his car. Mugen. The vehicle he's had and kept safe for half a decade. If he's ever cared about anything, it's that vehicle, and now the police have it? He can't just go and retrieve it – he's already on probation and after the street racing last night, they've got enough to put him in jail again. He's not going back. And regardless of how he gets his car back, he's going to. Even if he has to get assistance from Walker.

Sighing, he slumps onto the ground and runs a hand through his hair. He has the Civic at least – it's not quite done with all the adjustments, but Komui assured him it's far enough along to drive normally. He just can't race again until he gets Mugen back. It's not like he can't live without racing, but he needs the money. Walker insisted they all forget about the bet this time, but he doesn't have any sort of normal job past helping out at Komui's garage, and there he gets paid by commission – it's not a yearly salary or anything.

On the grass next to him, his phone vibrates and the noise that tells him he has a text message sounds. Groaning, he reaches for it, sees it's from an unknown number.

_This is my cell,_ it says. _Call me on this if you need something._ _Allen Walker. _

Well then what was the number he called from before? His house? Had he still be in his house when he called them?

He sits there on the ground for a moment before realizing it's idiotic to sit out on his front lawn when the cops are after him, and grabs his phone before getting up and going to open his door. That's when he realizes it's locked, that he didn't grab his keys or anything while sprinting out. He almost wants to groan again but instead hops his fence and enters through the kitchen door. Leaning against the counter, he makes himself a glass of tap water and sips at it lightly, glaring at his phone. He could call Walker, see if the kid could get his car back, and he knows he needs to – but he doesn't want to do it just yet. He hates owing people. And knowing the kid, he'd either wave it off like it was nothing, or just illicit 'drinks' again. And in the end, regardless, Kanda would still feel like he owed him something.

Music pours from his neighbor's backyard and he snarls at his backdoor before snatching his phone off the table and stomping to his bedroom. "Fuck it," he grumbles out, falling onto his bed. Sleeping seems like a good idea. He'll just sleep and pass the time.

* * *

><p>He wakes up, blearily, to nighttime. Checking his phone, he sees he has a missed call from Lavi and a missed call from Lenalee, then that it's past six in the evening; he remembers, vaguely, that he was supposed to meet them for something. Not that he really cares. The low-lighting coupled with the warmth of the room makes him feel overly fatigued, and he doesn't want to leave his bed. They didn't leave any voicemails, so it couldn't have been important.<p>

Just as he's about to drift off, his phone chimes. A text message.

_Man, you aren't going to believe this. You better call me. _

It's from Lavi, and he doesn't really want to deal with the red head's antics right now. He's tired and angry and doesn't have any of the little good-naturedness needed to put up with him.

_I'm serious, Yu. _

Growling, he dials Lavi's number and puts the phone between his ear and the pillow. It only has to ring once or so for it to be picked up. "_Dude, _dude_. You have got to come to the garage. Our actual garage. You – your mind is going to be blown."_

"What the fuck are you on about?"

"_I'm telling you, the kid is magic. That or my Fast and the Furious theory is correct, but I like him too much to want to believe that." _

"You like everyone," Kanda sneers, slowly climbing out of bed. "I'll be there in a few with the Civic."

"_See ya then, buddy."_

Letting out a string of curses, he semi-quickly leave his home, remembering his keys this time, and climbs into the Civic before making his way to the garage they're currently using. He has no idea what the red head could even remotely want, and he generally doesn't care, but he sounded a bit – urgent, perhaps. Like whatever it is, it really _is_ exciting.

When he gets to the garage, the first thing he notices is that the large door is open.

The second thing he notices is that Mugen is sitting in the open, inside area.

Disbelief settling on his face, he pulls into the parking lot and storms towards the garage. Walker is there, leaning against the car and doing something on his phone – looks up and smiles when he sees Kanda coming at him with an almost sprint.

"Oh, hello. I got a ring saying someone was calling, quite frantic, about his car and asking for me. I had a feeling it was you. You're awfully partial to this vehicle."

Kanda isn't sure of how to react. He didn't even have to _ask_ the guy for his help and he gave it. And how is he supposed to repay something like this? What does he do or say?

"Why did you do this?"

"Hmm? Because I like you. And you like this car."

"…_How_ did you do this?"

"That's not important," Allen waves him off. Lavi, Komui and Lenalee must be inside the shop; they're out here alone.

Kanda raises an eyebrow at him. "Of course it is.'"

"You don't trust me?" Allen pouts, crossing his thin arms. Kanda resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Very well," he sighs, pushing off of Mugen and walking a bit closer. "I bought it."

"You…bought it…?"

"Yes, I did. They were going to put it up for auction, but I suppose they figured my bid wasn't going to be beat."

Kanda rubs the bridge of his nose in aggravation. "Should I even ask how much fucking money you bid?"

"It was far above that of an officer's paycheck, I will say that. It is a beautiful car, though. Sixty-eight, right? I used to want a Camaro all the time when I was younger."

"Too good for Camaros now that you have Lamborghinis," Kanda snorts, walking up to his car and inspecting it. "I'll buff that out," he murmurs, running his finger across a slight indent in the passenger door.

"Not true at all. As I told you before, the car I generally use for racing is in the shop." He rolls up his sleeves, and goes to walk into the main shop. "It's a Nissan."

"Che," Kanda scoffs at him as he walks away. A Nissan? Allen Walker seems too 'high-class' for a Nissan.

"Oh man, so now our Yu owes ya a ten second car?" he hears Lavi laughing. He's about to barge in, say he doesn't owe anyone shit, but he kind of feels like he does. Mugen's important to him, way more important that whatever off the street car he'd get in return for it.

"Of course not," Walker laughs. "I'm not that kind of man. It was a gift. I'm not asking for anything in return." Nothing in return, huh? Like that last nothing in return? "Well, there is one thing." He watches Kanda as he enters the room. "What would you three say to a race?"

"Depends," Lenalee says. "What kind of race?"

"No details have been given, but there is a very large reward for first place. And if we work together, the odds go up exponentially."

"So we'd split the winnings," Lavi crosses his arms, smirking. "This ain't first grade. If I win, I'm taking it all."

Walker laughs, loudly. "Alright, Lavi. You win and you get it all to yourself."

Lavi grins impishly and Kanda takes this moment to speak up, "When is it?"

"Oh, Friday night. We'll meet downtown. They'll tell us everything then."

"Fantastic," Lavi says. "We'll plan an orgy for my celebration party."

* * *

><p>He arrives at their meeting place about nine in the evening. Mugen still has a few bumps and bruises, but it's drivable. He parallel parks between a Supra and a Gran Turismo before climbing out of his Camaro and stretching a bit. The others are supposed to meet him somewhere around here, so he looks around, cranes his neck until he sees a vibrant mop of red on the opposite side of a familiar Trans Am. He walks towards him, and soon finds that the other four are there as well, along with a familiar looking dark skinned man.<p>

"Ah, Kanda," Walker says as he walks up. "I'd like you to meet Tyki Mikk. He's my…cousin. He's also the one that helped us out with the police."

Mikk holds out a gloved hand to Kanda; he looks at it wearily for a few seconds before taking it and partaking in a firm handshake. Neither of them move to greet each other, but no one comments on that. Lenalee and Komui are talking about something amongst themselves, and Lavi is grinning monstrously, leaning against his vehicle.

"It appears as though first place is information." Komui says, walking up to them. "What kind, no one knows, but apparently it's big." He crosses his arms. "I don't like this, though, Lenalee. You're gonna get hurt!"

"What the fuck are you on about?" Kanda growls. "She always races with us."

"She races closed passes, I don-"

"No one's closing the streets?" Kanda barks. He turns to Allen. "Are you a _fucking_ idiot?"

"Not my rules," Walker shrugs, though he looks a bit disgruntled as well.

"Listen, you do this, you get the information," Komui says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looks at Lenalee, desperation in his eyes. "It's dangerous, but there's no alternative."

Kanda inhales, heavily, and looks around. Women in short skirts, men downing beers; this place looks like every other pass he's been at. What makes it so different?

"Fine," he says simply. He's not going to race with any car other than Mugen, so he's just going to have to be more careful – better. Going back to where he parked, he gets into his vehicle and starts it, drives to where the starting line is. There are seven or so other racers, but he pays no mind to them. This race is going to take all of his knowledge, his skills. Open traffic is not easy to deal with, especially in the city; he'll be lucky if he gets Mugen to sixty miles an hour at any point. This kind of race is not for amateurs.

The cars next to him rev their engines, and he does the same, careful not to burnout. A woman holds up a flag, then brings it down quickly and the race begins. Until the first intersection, they're on a closed road – then it opens and the _real_ pass comes into play. Kanda swerves into traffic, hearing as people honk left and right and not giving the slightest shit. He shifts and settles in his seat a bit as he tries his best to keep his attention on both the racers and the citizens on the road. He doesn't really bother to obey traffic laws; the race follows a strict route – there are no traffic cams or cops that'll catch him.

But he's never had such hard driving to do in his life. Maneuvering through the traffic, turning at intersections – barely scraping the side of a Sorento; it's all very new to him. And it feels so dangerous. Adrenaline pumps through his blood, like every other race, but something about this is different. It's not just that need to win in his veins; it's a need to survive. That if he doesn't turn at a precise time, or slow down, or veer, he could die. Walker is in front of him, swerving in and out of traffic like it's nothing, like he's always driven this way.

What kind of shit does he do?

...Very illegal shit, obviously.

He's torn from that thought process though, at the sound of a horn. He turns his head, sees an eighteen wheeler barreling towards him. It's gigantic, high off the ground, with wheels that look like they could crush him in seconds. Snarling, he downshifts, steps on the brakes, hard; Mugen's wheels lose their traction in seconds and he spins out of control, underneath the truck. On the other side of it is stopped traffic.

He lets out a strangled noise before shifting again and driving up onto the curb, going around all of them. He's going to hate himself for this after the race. He's careful not to run into any street lamps or anything he could wrap Mugen around; the traffic is backed up fairly far, though, and he sees one of racers stuck inside of it, unable to go anywhere. When he finally gets around it, he drives back onto the blacktop and continues on the route, realizes he isn't far from the finish line at this point. He doesn't know, however, where the other vehicles are. He only saw one stuck in the traffic, which must mean the others are far ahead of him.

Which doesn't really make any sense, because he had just seen them and it's not like they could have gotten that far ahead.

Swerving around traffic, he jolts through a red light (thankfully there's no traffic coming through this time – at least not when he speeds across the intersection) and sees the final street to turn onto a few hundred feet away. Braking, he turns the wheel a bit, lets the back end of Mugen drift as he turns onto the road. That's when, behind him, he sees a white Lamborghini speeding through and maneuvering around the other vehicles behind him. Confused, he keeps his focus by keeping his eyes on the road in front of him and pressing down on the accelerator. The finish line isn't far away at this point.

Within seconds, he's past it, slowly stops in the makeshift opening the crowd has made for him. Turning off the car, he steps out, realizing very quickly it was he that made first place. Girls crowd around him, men hold their beers to him – it's like a gigantic celebration, except he hasn't really felt he's done anything. Plus he doesn't really like crowds, so this only serves to aggravate him.

Walker climbs from his Murciélago, then, and smiles at Kanda. It's more seductive than happy, and Kanda frowns at him before a tall Russian comes and crosses his arms in front of him. He must be the guy running the race – the idiot who decided they'd be racing in open traffic. Mimicking his pose, he stares the guy down until he laughs loudly and slaps Kanda on the shoulder. "Very nice race," he says, accent so thick it's kind of hard to understand him. "You know the city well."

Well, yeah, but what does that have to do with anything? "And you call me a cheater," Allen smirks, voice breathy.

"Taking a shortcut – not exactly in rules," the Russian says. "But who said there were rules?" He laughs again. "Here is your prize." Shortcut? Oh, had he forgotten a turn or two? Oh well.

He hands Kanda a manila envelope and he looks at the outside it, but quickly tucks it under his arm; he has no plans to open whatever it is just yet.

Lavi and Lenalee come up to him then, delighted expressions on their faces, and Lenalee wraps an arm around Kanda's waist before Komui shows up and starts having a heart attack in the background. Sighing, she lets him go (to Kanda's relief, in all honesty; he doesn't really like being touched).

"Well, I suppose we'll regroup at the garage?" Komui asks. "We'll go over the contents of the envelope there?" He looks at Kanda pointedly; Kanda just gives a sharp nod before climbing into Mugen again. He starts the car again, is about to pull away when Walker leans against his door, bends down a bit to look at him through window. Scoffing, Kanda rolls it down.

"What do you want?"

"Just wanted to say congratulations. We'll have to celebrate a bit later." He nods at Kanda, something unsaid lingering in the depths of those chrome eyes, and walks from the car. "See you at the garage."

Kanda lets out a noise of annoyance before rolling up his window again and shifting into second, driving off slowly. The crowd parts for him slowly, and he is only getting slightly miffed at their speed – that is, until a gunshot rings through the air. There's also the unmistakable sound of glass shattering and, coupled with the fact that his windshield now has a small, several millimeter wide bullet hole in it, Kanda comes to the conclusion that someone is fucking _shooting_ at him. Snarling, but not turning around (because he's not that stupid; he'll get a bullet to the face if he looks behind him now), he shifts again and speeds through, the people scattering much faster now. Maybe, if they follow him a bit, he'll be able to see who it is.

It's probably another contestant, though, someone who wants the information or whatever's sitting in the passenger's seat next to him. It's not a very thick package, so it's probably just a sheet of paper inside of it; oh, it'd better be fucking awesome if he's getting his windshield and rear window shot out. Once he's completely out of the crowd, he hears another gunshot – this one doesn't come into the cabin of his car, but he hears it connect with the metal body of the car. He curses, violently, and does a quick ninety degree turn away from an alleyway, turns in his seat to watch as he drives into it in reverse. He's going to get a good look at these fuckers, then make them crash so badly they won't leave ICU for a year.

Another bullet whizzes past him, and he sees a yellow coupe driving towards him – it's a base model Corvette; the driver is some Eastern European who can't speak English save a few words of greeting and probably has all the intelligence of a gnat. The next bullet that passes through his car shatters the windshield, and, cursing, he drives out of the opposite side of the alleyway backwards, turns sharply once he gets on the main road the alley connects; the man follows him out and inhaling sharply, Kanda takes a right onto the freeway. Again, he's followed, but here they can move more freely than on the streets. The Corvette follows close behind and he quickly formulates a plan in his head; stepping on the brake, he turns his wheel so hard his car does a complete one-eighty. Then he steps on the accelerator, speeds past the Corvette and moving against the flow of San Francisco traffic. The Corvette does the same, though much slower, and because Kanda is far enough ahead, he can see things the Corvette cannot. For instance, coming off of the freeway is a large intersection – Kanda zips through it with relative ease, but the Corvette misses the onslaught of cars coming just after a light change.

He watches the yellow Coupe get T-boned, the sound of squealing tires and the crunch of fiber-glass are louder than he imagined they would be – and if the European in that car is still alive, it's safe to say he won't be coming after Kanda again.

Maybe this envelope really is worth a pretty penny.

* * *

><p>When he gets to the garage, Lavi, Lenalee, Komui, and Walker all crowd around him and Mugen. "Are you alright?" Lenalee asks. "We saw you getting shot at and then you just – disappeared!"<p>

"I'm fine," Kanda snarls. "Just get to work on fixing my fucking car!" He stomps away, manila envelope gripped tightly in his hand, and leaves Lenalee and Komui to survey the damage. Lavi and Allen follow him into the main area, where it's air conditioned, and stand on either side of him as he rips open the top of the package. "This had better be fucking amazing."

Slipping his hand into the packet, he fishes for the thin sheet of paper and quickly withdraws his hand – throws the manila envelope on the ground. It's off-white, almost the color of new parchment, and printed on it are a series of numbers.

_30.34/81.51_

_079375_

_82497_

_74279_

"What's it fucking mean! _This_ is what I went through all that shit for?" Kanda growls, staring intently at the paper as if this would make it either combust or suddenly become less confusing.

"Let me see that," Lavi says, taking the paper from Kanda's hands lightly. He looks at it for only a few seconds before saying, "The first line is latitude and longitude. Somewhere on the Southeast coast of the United States. The second looks like some kind of serial code; the third and fourth are both five digit key codes – they unlock something."

"So it's a fucking puzzle. Fantastic."

"Not exactly," Walker smiles. "I bet it's a shipment of some kind. The serial code probably belongs to a storage unit. Could be cash, could be electronics; it's more a mystery than a puzzle."

"This seems like way too much work," Kanda snaps. "I'm never participating in one of your fucking races again, short-stack. They're stupidly dangerous and severely unrewarding."

"_Short-stack_? Listen, I'm positive that whatever's in those is something you'll want. At the very least, it'll be valuable and you can sell it." The white-haired boy nods. "That you can be sure of."

Kanda purses his lips. "Whatever. How do you propose we get there, though? I'm not fucking driving all the way to the east coast, and we won't be able to get a plane there without the cops being all over us."

"Oh, I've got that covered," Walker grins. "Don't worry about that." He smirks a bit, at Kanda, then at Lavi, and says, "A celebration of some sort is in order. What was that, your first win?"

"Fuck you! I've won plenty of races."

"Your track record says otherwise."

"You raced me once. And your ass cheated!"

"You cheated in this race, didn't you?"

"I didn't even fucking realize I was!"

"Well, while you two lovebirds argue, I'm going to go do a bit of research," Lavi grins. "I want to get to the prize as soon as possible." Kanda shoots him a glare, but otherwise doesn't say anything, just watches as the red-head retreats into the side room where the computer is. As soon as he's gone, he feels a hand on his arm.

Kanda looks down at the white-haired boy, slightly aggravated from the argument still, but as soon as his eyes lay on Walker, the aggravation leaves him. It's soon replaced by a feeling of lust, and bare, primal instincts to shove the boy on the floor and fuck him senseless fill his head. It's annoying that this happens most times he truly looks at the kid, and wonders if _actually_ fucking him will make that go away. Probably. Doesn't hurt to try.

Without a word, he drags Walker up into a kiss, who responds immediately. It's rough – they're kissing each other as if their lives depend on it. He breathes harshly through his nose as he presses himself closer to the white haired boy and lets his hands wander up and down Walker's back, move down to ass. He kneads there, and Allen moans deeply into his mouth.

Walker's back is to a countertop, and Kanda swipes all of the contents of it off before picking Allen up and sitting him on there, turning his head a bit but certainly not pulling away. He feels the kid running fingers through his ponytail, tugging on it harshly, and represses the shocks of desire that threaten to make him voice that pleasure. Running hands up Allen's shirt, he slides the pads of his fingertips over his nipples, smirks as Walker arches towards him, groans deeply. He really, really wants to continue, but not here – not with Komui and Lenalee and Lavi in the next room.

"How far to do you live from here?" Kanda asks, swallowing and trying to regulate his breathing.

Walker, a bit dazed, takes a second to think about it. "I live closer to the other garage. Let's go to your place."

"We take your car."

The kid nods and they practically jog off towards the back of the building where his Murciélago is parked. They say nothing as they both climb in and Walker hastily starts the car and pulls away. The zero-to-sixty of the car is fairly fast, and Walker tests that by pushing down on the accelerator and speeding off. Kanda gives him breathy directions to his house and they're there in almost no time.

Jumping out of the car, they sprint into his house (he hears Walker lock the doors to his car and arm the alarm on the way) and as soon as they're in the front door, they're kissing again. It's just as rushed as before, as though they're a couple who hasn't seen each other in months. They're ever desperate to get closer to one another, to kiss deeper, to grind harsher. His tongue and jaw are kind of starting to ache, but he pays no mind to that, keeps kissing as he tentatively directs the white-haired boy to his bedroom.

Once there, he pushes him on the bed and wastes no time in climbing over him and immediately relieving him of his shirt. He pulls off his own, then runs a tongue along Walker's throat, over his adam's apple. His tongue runs a line all the way to just underneath his ear, then moves to trace the inside of it; he nibbles on Allen's ear as Allen writhes a bit underneath him and lets his own hands wander.

He jolts when he feels a hand on his dick, wonders how someone so…_innocent_ and polite looking could be so ambitious. He lets his own hand wander down, below the waistband of Walker's pants. The boy's body is so warm; he lets his thumb graze the slit of Allen's cock and at this Walker reiterates by rubbing Kanda's cock, creating friction between the layer of clothing. He inhales, sharply, and quickly removes his hand from Allen in order to take off his own pants, while Allen does the same. Once they're completely naked, he guides their cocks together, kisses Walker again as they rock together. The white-haired boy then moves Kanda's ponytail to the side and starts sucking at a pulse point on his neck. Kanda grits his teeth a bit to the assault of pleasure and just fucks against Allen's cock and grips a bit tighter. "Mmnn, Kanda," Allen moans, a smile in his voice. The hot breath on his neck makes him release a gust of breath and he props himself up a bit better on his one free hand to slide his cock and Allen's into his hand faster. Allen moves to put both of his hands around their cocks as well; they're both panting wildly – Kanda can feel the tight coiling and uncoiling of something in his abdomen. "I-I'm coming," Allen breathes. "Faster."

Kanda isn't really sure how to comply, as he's putting his entire soul into fucking as hard as he can, but within a minute of the fast pace and harsh grip, Allen moans extremely loudly and comes – Kanda comes moments after with a moan of his own, unable to stop it from ripping from his throat. He's never been a very vocal person, but the noise was...involuntary. Kanda slides onto the bed next to him then and, for a moment, lets himself breathe.

The only problem with orgasms is their refractory period.

When he finally has the strength to move again, he sits up and begins pulling on his clothes, doesn't spare a word at Walker. The kid just lies there, doesn't say anything for a few moments until he moves to get dressed as well. "I suppose you won't want this to be mentioned again."

"I don't give a fuck."

"I see. It doesn't matter, anyhow. I don't kiss and tell." He tugs on his pants. "I'll call you with information on how we get to the east coast."

"Whatever."

"Even sex doesn't lighten your mood…" Walker idly states, straightening out the sleeves on his shirt. That's when he notices his left, black arm. He hadn't noticed it before, caught in the throes of pleasure and what the fuck ever else.

"What's the deal with your arm?"

"Oh, this?" Allen asks, holding out his hand. "Just a tattoo, rather like the pentacle above my eye."

"That's _a lot _of ink – it covers your entire fucking arm."

"All the way up past my elbow." Walker nods. He pulls on a pair of gloves, in the middle of the fucking summer no less. Kanda supposes he hadn't had the mind to comment on them before because of his utter lack of interest. Even now, it shines far too brightly for him to make another comment. Sniffing in slight disdain, he stands from his bed, watches as Walker silently walks from the bedroom. "Oh right," He pokes his head back around the corner. "Did you need a ride back to the garage?"

"No."

"What about your car?"

"I'll deal with it."

"Fine, fine," Allen holds up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Call you later, Princess."

Kanda purses his lips and tries his best not to lash out.

* * *

><p>Walker, somehow (he really doesn't even fucking care anymore; first the connection to the police and now this…) gets them a private flight to where the prize is. The pilot looks familiar; a tall man with long dark hair and a monocle (fucking weirdo) and if he knew any better, he'd refuse to be on a plane the man pilots, but he, again, doesn't care all that much. Or, that is to say, at all.<p>

They land in Jacksonville, Florida a few hours later, and immediately hail a taxi to bring them to the location the latitude and longitude lead them to. The ride isn't too long, and he thanks whatever deity is out there for the air conditioning. It's hot, damn hot – way hotter than San Francisco – but apparently all this will be worth it. Lavi assured them this is the right location; Walker assured them this is going to be one of their greatest wins. He steps out of the taxi once they arrive, behind Lenalee, and together the four of them walk towards a large cluster of storage units. Each one is gigantic, probably at least 40 feet in length; as they walk forward, Walker stuffs in his hands and gives a casual look around before taking out a slip of paper and saying, "The serial number we're looking for is zero-seven-nine-three-seven-five."

They split up at this point, begin looking around. There doesn't seem to be any organization system here, just containers grouped together and creating an impossible maze. After searching for what seems like forever, he hears Lenalee yell, "I found it!"

Remembering the way he came in, he leaves the maze of containers and watches as she does as well. Lavi walks out into sight as well, but Walker is nowhere to be seen. Mysterious asshole. Together, Lenalee leads them to the container – it's not too far away from the entrance; it's about 40 feet long like the others, about 8 feet tall, and a dull gray-green color. Kanda walks around to the double doors and surveys the lock there. It's not a conventional one – rather it's a sophisticated looking keypad. Information Walker probably has.

This all seems like a lot of work for a prize, flying into Florida, finding a container in a sea of fucking containers – but it was expressed that this was worth it. Multiple times.

"Allen?" Lavi calls, probably realizing as well it's that kid that has the code. And besides, where the fuck is he?

"Ah, Lavi, yes," they hear his voice, a bit far off. "I'm on my way."

"Do you know where we are?"

"Oh – yes, of course I do."

He has no clue.

"Are you fucking _lost_?" Kanda interjects.

"Of course not! I'm merely…strolling around."

"You're fucking lost," Kanda deadpans, not loud enough for the kid to hear (most likely) but loud enough for himself. "Go find him, idiot. We can't leave until we open this." He pushes Lavi in the direction of where they entered and Lavi shrugs before going off. Sighing, Kanda leans against the unit and crosses his arms, waits. It doesn't take too long, and once Walker is with them again he flips his hair from his eyes nonchalantly and walks up to the keypad with more dignity than a short-stack like him should have. He punches in one code, waits thirty seconds, then puts in one more; when the lock clicks and the door opens a little, he takes the handle and heaves it the rest of the way open. Kanda pushes himself off the side and walks around to see what's inside. It's kind of dark, but the contents are very visible. The fiber-glass bodies glisten in the reflected light, and Walker walks into the crate with a kind of prideful expression.

"Probably just shipped in from _Sant'Agata_. Six brand new Aventadors – far cry from the muscle cars you lot seem to enjoy, but they _are_ beautiful." He runs fingers across a sleek, burnt orange hood. He seems awed, and - oddly informed. "They're literally brand new, just released a month or so ago – these cars are the flagships of super sport cars." Kanda sees pearly white teeth sparkle as his smile grows. "Seven hundred horsepower, zero to one hundred kilometers in 2.9 seconds, valued at around two-hundred and fifty-five euros – that's about three hundred and eighty thousand dollars American; have you ever seen such beautiful cars?"

"_This_ is what we won?" Lavi asks, flabbergasted. "A shit-ton of Lamborghinis?"

"Well, Kanda won the information, but I suppose in a way, yes, we won these." Allen nods.

Finding the door unlocked, Lenalee climbs inside the first one – the one Allen was touching. She makes a slight squeal of delight at the scissor door, and then exclaims, "Seven speed. Wow – I've never driven a car like this before."

"No one has," Allen tells her. "But come – we must go."

He climbs into the one behind Lenalee, and motions for Lavi and Kanda to get in another two. "What about the final two?" Lavi asks as he passes by Allen's silver Aventador.

"A friend will be here to pick them up shortly." As he says this, Lenalee drives out the container – the keys were in the ignition as well? – and Allen follows her out. Then Lavi climbs into the one behind him and Kanda gets into the one behind Lavi. It's black, or perhaps a very dark red or blue, but he can't tell at this point. Starting the car, he shifts into first and slowly drives from the unit, realizes he doesn't like this car nearly as much as Mugen, but perhaps that's only because of the pre-existing attachment he has to his Camaro. If he'd never gotten the Camaro, he could see himself enjoying this car – even if it's not American.

As a general rule, he doesn't like driving foreign cars, but he can't pass this up. Even if he doesn't choose to keep it – if he wants to sell it in all of its nearly four hundred thousand dollar glory, he's getting it back to San Francisco. There are sharp turns inside the maze of units, but he glides through easily. Once he's out of the maze he puts his destination into the GPS already installed in the car and leans back in his seat a bit, begins the long trip back to San Francisco.

* * *

><p><strong>Hmmm...I wonder what kind of conflict will present them now? And doesn't something seem a little fishy about those Lamborghinis and how unguarded they were, or how a random group of criminals knew exactly where to get them or why they were giving six of them to a single winner in a small street race? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm...<strong>

**And well, one of my friends guessed it – this fic is titled 'Mess with the Bull' because the Lamborghini's logo is the bull; also, each Lamborghini is named after a bull that's fought in previous times. And that means this is going to be kind of Lamborghini themed. Don't get me wrong, I _love_ the classics, but something about Lamborghinis gets me all hot and bothered. If you haven't noticed.**

**Also, this may have to go on a bit of a hiatus for me to work on Promises. I really want to continue this, but the fan base for Risky Business and Promises is so much larger...Oh well...I feel like shit either way. There will probably still be updates, but they'll be super sporadic. **


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